


post its and hot chocolates

by mondaytosaturday



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, M/M, Pining, also this has been in my draft since december last year, happy ending bc im in the mood for this, they leave notes for each other bc theyre Those kind of roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaytosaturday/pseuds/mondaytosaturday
Summary: You’re cute when you snore, you know? It’s one of my favorite things I love about you.in which verkwan are roommates and leave post it notes on the daily.





	post its and hot chocolates

**Author's Note:**

> sigh this marks as my first ever seventeen fic i have ever posted on this website. i used to write for sterek and castiel but my stupid brain forgot my own password

Seungkwan’s alarm goes off at six-fifteen, and he grumbles as he rolls over to turn off the too-cheery Christmas music that comes from his clock. What self-respecting rock station plays  _Christmas_ music, anyway? It’s in the middle of July, for God’s sake. He lays on his stomach for another minute before pushing himself up and out of bed.

He’s dressed in jeans, AC/DC tee, and a red over shirt when he makes his way to the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his freshly-shaved face, and smiles at the steaming cup of hot chocolate with peppermint that waits for him on the breakfast bar. Sliding a hand around the warm mug, he pulls the Post-It from the handle and reads the short note his housemate left for him as he sips at the drink.

_Dishes, Seungkwan. I will not tell you again._

Seungkwan snorts and eyes the pile of plates sitting in the sink. He should probably do those if they want to eat dinner tonight–Hansol bought stuff for enchiladas, and Seungkwan  _loves_  Hansol’ enchiladas.

Finishing the hot chocolate, Seungkwan takes the mug to the sink and runs the hot water.

He’s out the door at seven-fifty, whistling along to  _Holly, Jolly Christmas_ and the sink is clear once again.

\--

Hansol flips through his textbooks lazily, notes spread out on the coffee table in front of him and a pen behind his ear. He chews on his lip as he hums along to  _O Holy Night_ and occasionally pulls out his highlighter to mark passages to use in his essay. His laptop sits next to his notes, Word open to his paper.

A mug is set next to his feet propped up on the coffee table, and he looks up to smile at Seungkwan as his housemate passes through the living room and to the door, heading to work. He puts his textbook aside to pick up the warm mug, and he inhales the smell of cocoa and cinnamon. The note on the lip makes him roll his eyes.

_Take a break, nerd. You’ve got 12 out of 7 pages; I think you’re good._

Hansol looks over to his computer, sipping his drink. The warm, rich liquid soothes his throat, and he hums contentedly.

Half an hour later, Hansol saves his work and takes his mug to the kitchen so he can wash it and grab a snack. The final page count is at nine, and a half more for the conclusion.

\--

“Oh, my god, Seungkwan,” Hansol groans. “This is why you shouldn’t do shots. You get  _shitfaced_.”

“’M not shitfaced,” Seungkwan protests. He hiccups, leaning against Hansol. “There is no shit on my face right now.”

But maybe he’s a little drunk. Just a little.

He stumbles through the front door, giggling and hanging onto Hansol as Hansol drags him into their house with a grunt. He can practically  _feel_ Hansol’ eyes rolling into the back of his head, and he giggles again at the image in his brain. He tilts his head to lay it on Hansol’ shoulder, and suddenly he doesn’t want to move his feet anymore–his legs feel like jelly, and he slumps, letting Hansol carry most of his weight as he’s dragged through the house to his room.

He sticks his nose in Hansol’ neck, nuzzling beneath his jaw and up to the dark hair that curls behind his ear. “Mm, y’smell good, Hansol. Like… like  _clean,_ y’know? Like rain. And cinnamon. I like cinnamon. ‘Specially with apples. Mm, cinnamon-apple. Like  _pie._ ”

Hansol huffs a laugh, and it sounds exasperated, or maybe sad, Seungkwan’s not sure. Which is weird, because Hansol is never sad. Except when a really handsome twink called Joshua Hong dumped him for a fellow football star Lee Seokmin–Seungkwan had come home to find him in silent tears, curled up on the couch with a tub of ice cream. Rocky Road, his favorite.

Seungkwan had seriously considered the merits of murder for a week after that, but Hansol talked him out of it. He couldn’t really hate Seokmin, though, since they’re actually kind of friends.

Seungkwan is brought out of his musings when Hansol dumps him on his bed, and he lands with an  _oomph._ He giggles again, rolling over and grinning up at his best friend as Hansol undoes his boots and takes them off. Hansol pulls him out of his shirts next, and he wiggles his hips invitingly when Hansol goes to undo his belt.

“Mm, y’know I like it when y’undress me, Hansol,” he purrs, though it’s more of a slur, and Hansol rolls his eyes, tugging his belt out from the loops with a little more force than necessary.

“You,” Hansol admonishes with a light, fond smack to his head; his fingers card gently through Seungkwan’s hair, and his eyes are soft and sad as he looks at Seungkwan, “need to stop coming on to me when you’re drunk.”

His voice is rueful, and Seungkwan feels like Hansol is saying something other than the words coming out of his mouth, but the hazy fog in his brain is making it hard to think, so he just whines and rolls over as Hansol pulls his jeans off, burying his face in his pillow that does not smell like rain and cinnamon. He misses it.

The last thing Seungkwan is aware of is his comforter being tossed over him, a soft kiss against his temple followed by a “Goodnight, Seungkwan” from Hansol, and he sighs into his pillow as he curls his arms under it.

When he wakes up the next morning, Seungkwan groans at his pounding head. He turns it to look at his bedside table when he inhales the smell of chocolate and peppermint, and he immediately takes the pills sitting on top of the note tucked under the mug, sipping his drink and squinting to make out the words Hansol wrote for him.

_The next time you decide shots are a good idea, you’re undressing yourself._

Seungkwan flushes in embarrassment as he fuzzily recalls his drunken antics, and he thanks whatever higher being may be out there–yet again–that Hansol is so comfortable putting up with his silly ass.

Something niggles at the back of his mind, like he’s missed something, and he frowns, trying to think. It hits him as he finishes his hot chocolate, and he nearly drops his mug in his epiphany.

Hansol had said  _while you’re drunk._ Not just  _don’t come onto me,_ but specifically  _while you’re drunk._

God, Seungkwan’s had a crush on Hansol since they met in high school. It’s only gotten worse over the years–or maybe  _stronger_ is the better word;  _worse_ has bad connotations and Seungkwan’s feelings aren’t  _bad_ –and he’s only not said anything because Hansol hasn’t shown interest one way or the other.

Except, Seungkwan thinks, he kind of has. The staring matches and the gentle touches and the soft smiles and the unconditional support and care and the  _goddamn hot chocolate._

And last night. Seungkwan was a giggly, flirty drunk, and he’d definitely been flirting with Hansol–it was the only time he ever flirted with Hansol so openly: under the influence–and Hansol had seemed… sad. Rueful. Like he wished… Well, like he wished Seungkwan meant it and that it wasn’t just the antics of a drunk man.

He’s not sure if he’s reading it right or if it’s just wishful thinking borne from his own feelings, and he bites his lip as he wonders if he should make anything of it.  _Only one way to know,_ he decides, and he takes his mug to the kitchen as his alarm starts playing Ko Ko Bop, for some reason _._

\--

Hansol is running  _late._ God, he knows he shouldn’t have binged _Goblin_ straight through but Minghao and Mingyu and  _literally everyone_ kept telling him he needed to because  _Good angst and feelings, Hansol. Also Goblins, Hansol_

 Fucking goblins and the  _feels,_ he seethes to himself, yanking on his sweater and running a hand through his hair. He glares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, frowning at the circles under his eyes, and walks out with a huff. He grabs his wallet from his dresser and is in the foyer reaching for his coat when he sees the thermos on the table that holds their keyring bowl, a Post-It on the side.

A smile immediately pulls up his lips as he wraps his hands around the warm metal, inhaling the aroma, and he pulls the note off as he takes a sip. He nearly chokes on it as he reads what Seungkwan left him:

_You’re cute when you snore, you know? It’s one of my favorite things I love about you._

Hansol stares at the note, utterly flabbergasted.  _Cute when you snore?_ What does it mean? What is Seungkwan playing at? His stomach gives a little flip as he reads it again and again, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he runs his finger over the last bit– _I love about you._

He wonders briefly when he’s been asleep in Seungkwan’s presence to allow him to hear Hansol snore, and he rolls his eyes when he thinks about only every time after a test or final when he and Seungkwan would curl up on the couch to celebrate with _tteokbokki_ and movies, and Hansol would drop off with his head in Seungkwan’s lap a movie and a half in. Or when Hansol drags himself in from classes and collapses in bed, and Seungkwan’s right there with a mug of cocoa and a soothing hand.

Come to think of it, Hansol falls asleep on Seungkwan a lot. It’s just… comfortable. Secure. Safe.  _Home._

He looks at the last bit of the note again.  _I love about you._ Biting his lip, he lets his finger cover part of it, and his breath catches.

_I love you._

The grandfather clock in the living room begins chiming, and Hansol starts, shoving the note into his pocket and shrugging into his coat as he rushes out the door, thermos and keys in hand, laptop bag over his shoulder. He’s so fucking late, but his grin is big as he takes another sip from his cinnamon hot cocoa.

\--

“Hansol! I’m home!” Seungkwan calls, shrugging out of his jacket as he enters their house. He hangs it on the coatrack, wiping a hand over his face as he tosses his keys in the bowl and makes his way farther inside.

“Hansol?” he calls again when he receives no response. He frowns, walking to the kitchen. Hansol is supposed to be home by now–he’d texted Seungkwan that his classes let out early so he’d be home first, and he’d told Seungkwan he’d have dinner ready when Seungkwan got home.

So far, no Hansol.

There  _is_ food, though, and Seungkwan relaxes when he hears the shower running. He inhales the smell of grilled meat and probably McDonald’s cinnamon-apple pie, and his mouth waters as he eyes the platter of burger patties set out on the counter, surrounded by condiments and plates of crisp lettuce and tomatoes and onions. The pie sits on the warming tray by the stove, beautifully golden and oozing filling.

“Wow, Hansol,” Seungkwan murmurs to himself, rubbing his neck. Not that he isn’t grateful or anything, but this seems… excessive? No, more like… “special occasion” maybe? Yeah, special occasion.

Seungkwan racks his brain for the date, trying to think if he’s forgotten an anniversary or birthday or something. It’s the middle of July, his birthday was in January, his mom’s is in May (and Hansol would have said if he was inviting his mother over to celebrate all the way from Jeju, anyway), and Hansol’ is in February, so birthdays are out. They met officially in November of freshmen year, so it’s not the anniversary of their friendship, either.

Well, that’s everything he knows of, so it has to be something else. Something Seungkwan isn’t aware of. Yet, at least. He snorts–he certainly will be after today.

He glances around their kitchen, looking at all the prepared food, and his eyes land on the still steaming mug on the end of the breakfast bar. Seungkwan smiles, walking over to it and lifting it to his lips to sip at. The usual Post-It is stuck to the bar, and Seungkwan tilts his head to read it.

_Note to self: tell Seungkwan I love him_

The mug slips from his hand, and arms wrap around his waist to catch it before it shatters against the tile floor. They set the mug carefully on the bar again, before folding around Seungkwan and pulling him against a soft, strong body. Seungkwan feels Hansol nuzzle against his neck, hands gripping tight to the front of Seungkwan’s shirt.

“Hansol?” he manages, voice cracking on the single syllable.

“I love you, Seungkwan,” Hansol murmurs against his ear, pressing a kiss behind it. Seungkwan’s heart skips a beat, and his breath hitches. “I love you. I love you.  _I love you._ ”

Seungkwan finally finds the mind to turn around in Hansol’ arms, looking into wide blue eyes gazing at him tenderly, but with slight apprehension. Like Hansol is preparing himself for rejection. Heartbreak.

Well. They can’t have that.

Lips pulling up in a small, soft smile, Seungkwan tilts his head down just enough to brush them against Hansol’ chapped ones.

“Say it again,” he whispers against Hansol’ mouth, and Hansol smiles.

“I love you.”

\--

Hansol wakes up to the smell of cocoa and cinnamon, and he smiles as soft kisses are trailed over his bare shoulder blade, ghosting across the nape of his neck and up to his jaw where Seungkwan’s mouth lingers in a grin.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.”

Hansol rolls over, bringing a hand up to cup Seungkwan’s cheek and pull his head down for a real kiss, deep and slow. They linger against each other even after their lips stop moving together, simply breathing one another’s air as their foreheads rest against each other, eyes closed.

When Hansol opens his eyes, Seungkwan is already watching him contentedly, a goofy smile on his face. Hansol grins back, stealing another kiss.

“Good morning, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan pulls back from the kiss reluctantly, winking as he reaches over to the bedside table and comes back with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, one with a Post-It on the side. Hansol chuckles, taking the warm ceramic into his hands and turning it so he can read Seungkwan’s note.

_Note to self: tell Hansol I love him too_

Hansol bites his lip and looks up into his favorite blond haired man, framed in long lashes and surrounded by freckles. Seungkwan’s cheeks are flushed as he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Hansol’ temple, then his cheek, then his lips once more.

“I love you, too, Hansol,” he murmurs. “God, I love you, too.”

It’s the first time their hot chocolate has ever gone cold. 

**Author's Note:**

> i love all seventeen ships and i have written qUItE a few for other pairings (i got cheolhan and gyuhao ready) just let me know if you like this and would want to read my other works!


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